


Blood, Victory and Conquest.

by Wil



Category: The Silmarillion - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherhood, Family, Gen, Hunting, Implied Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-20
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wil/pseuds/Wil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celegorm visits Caranthir in Thargelion. He's hunting the wrong prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood, Victory and Conquest.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minviendha (Lise)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/gifts).



> The prompt was: Caranthir and Celegorm being brotherly.

  
The hunt was more difficult than he had expected. Celegorm had been tailing the stag for hours, felt taunted, insulted, as if the beast was refusing to give in to his own desire for blood, victory and conquest.

Thargelion. Its forests were wild, rich, haunting. He had told Curufinwë that he went to Thargelion just for that – to find rare game.

"A stag larger than you've ever seen," he insisted, eyes wide. "Moryo says it's been spotted many times on the outskirts of his realm, and that no-one ever caught the damn beast."

Curufinwë had scoffed, laughed, been overall condescending and dismissive of his brother's enthusiasm. That had only spurred Tyelko to leave Himlad for a while. He needed something to pursue, something that had four legs and not two. Take his mind off one chimera by pursuing another.

When he plunged his dagger into the stag's heart, he exulted for a short moment. Blood. Victory. Conquest.

Wasn't that what he and his brood were about? Dark thoughts.

That night, Carnistir Moryofinwë feasted him. There were some Naugrim traders in town, and so there was ale. Tyelko humored his younger brother with a pint, even if he felt no inclination for the frothy, sour drink.

"Aren't you happy, Tyelko?" Caranthir asked – but he already knew what answer to expect.

"I'm satisfied," Celegorm replied. "I guess you'll put the antlers up on your wall – keep them as a token of my visit, if you like?"

Caranthir gave him a thoughtful look and raised his mug in mock salute. "Aye aye, O great hunter."

Celegorm chuckled without humour and quaffed his ale, set his mug down. There was a moment of silence.

"You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?" Caranthir's question was rhetorical and they both knew it.

"I am," Celegorm replied, "I have business to attend to. Curufinwë writes of trouble in the North."

"Trouble in the North, my arse. But you have business to attend to alright." I'll miss you, though, he didn't say.

But he was guessing. And he didn't want to pop his brother's bubble. Caranthir took another sip and gave orders for his brother's departure.


End file.
